AN: Hi.

So I was in chemistry today, we were doing an experiment which my friend and I mucked up royally, so I started to wonder what it would be like if Sherlock taught a sixth form class. Because I have a strong suspicion it would be hilarious, so, obviously, I decided to write about it.

Thank you to my most wonderful reviewers. I love you all, even those who don't review, and merry Christmas to you all!

Lily

'No.' He sighed, plucking his bow from the edge of his music stand.

'But... you promised...' Molly said desperately

'I think you'll find that I didn't promise, Molly. I simply allowed you to believe that I would acquiesce to your request, and I will tell you now, I am not teaching any snotty group of children. Particularly not in chemistry. I highly doubt that any of them will appreciate the great subtlety and...'

'Give it a rest Sherlock.' I groaned 'We all appreciate the great gift you are to the world of science, now why won't you help Molly with her class?'

Molly timidly poked her head over my shoulder 'And they're not snotty children. Most of them are around seventeen, I did say that this was a sixth form class.'

Sherlock snorted and drew the bow across the strings harshly 'That's hardly better than primary school, Molly.'

Molly sighed and turned to the door 'Well okay then Sherlock. I guess I tried.' As she reached the door, she turned as if she'd just remembered something 'Oh, did I tell you? The application I put in for you to borrow all this equipment has been revoked, so I'm going to have to come and collect it, sometime tomorrow?' she shrugged and gave a little faux-embarrassed shrug 'Sorry. And with no equipment I don't suppose you'll be able to do any experiments. Pity.'

Sherlock stared at her throughout the little monologue, his jaw growing tighter and tighter. 'This is blackmail.' He hissed, his face going even paler.

Molly examined her nails and looked into his face again 'Yes it is Sherlock. What do you suppose that means?'

Sherlock growled quietly through his teeth and threw himself flat on the sofa 'Fine. Email me a lesson plan and I will see how I can dumb the great science down so that it seems to justify the consciousness of some vacuous teenager.'

I raised my eyebrows and smiled slightly at her 'And I would take that as a yes. Come on, I'll see you to the door.' As we walked down the stairs, I nudged her and grinned 'Well look at you Molly Hooper. Standing up to Sherlock like that. What's the change?'

She smiled and turned away 'Goodbye John.'

...

So the next Tuesday, I found myself sat at the back of a first year lab in Aston College, watching Sherlock snap bad temperedly at a science technician as she tried to make him wear a lab coat. When he eventually did shoulder into the scrap of thick white cotton, she smirked and wandered back into the prep room.

The class filed in shortly afterwards, several students recoiling at Sherlock, as he stood, arms folded and leaning against the teacher's desk.

He slammed the textbook down on the table bad naturedly and swept the room with a scowl. Suddenly, one of the kids made a big mistake.

She laughed and said 'Who's the new tech? Bit up himself isn't he?'

To my very great surprise, Sherlock didn't even look up 'Does your mother know it was you who drowned your brother's kitten?' he asked coolly

Wisely, the girl didn't comment. 'Right.' He sighed 'My name is Mr Holmes...'

Molly leaned across the desk 'They call the teachers by their first names here.' Sherlock silenced her with a scowl.

'As I was saying, my name is Mr Holmes.' He glanced pointedly at Molly 'And as Miss Hooper has probably told you, I am here to help you with your assessed practical. As the lot of you are only first years I can hardly expect the experiment to be very interesting or for it to be performed accurately but we may hold out some hope that at least ten percent of you are of above average intelligence.'

As one, the class gave him an affronted look.

'Right.' He flashed the students a brief smile 'Let's get started shall we?'

...

An hour later and seventeen teenage chemistry students had fallen deeply in love with Sherlock.

To be honest, I really couldn't blame them. Sherlock had changed their experiment, meaning that none of them would get their EMPA but according to a young lady who introduced herself as Bella, it mattered little, walked round as they conducted his experiment and pronounced their efforts 'Clumsy', 'Inept' and 'Pretentious', but actually told them how to fix it, and tried to make Molly fetch him a piece of cadaver so that he could demonstrate the effect of sulphuric acid on dead skin.

Actually the last one was unjustifiably popular. I don't know what it is about teenagers and an unnatural attachment to gore.

'Mr Holmes, why's it doing this?'

He gave the boy a pitying look 'Mr Kays, I am not going to dignify that with a response. You have written out the equation for the enthalpy change, what are the products shown...?'

It occurred to me, watching Sherlock walk around the lab and correct the kid's experiments, that however much he may profess that he hates children, he is good with them. Every kid in the room was asking questions and Sherlock was replying to them, largely, without sarcasm. It just made me smile was all. And maybe a little sad.

Oh well.

AN: ...this started out as a chapter and ended up revision notes. Ah chemistry, how I love thee... if you love chemistry, this story, life or Sherlock (or a combination of the four) please review!